


Effortless Miracles

by Rosage



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 12:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18135938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: One of Asra and Nadia's sleepovers reveals the shoes they're still trying to fill.





	Effortless Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> The referenced Carrow is Fayery’s apprentice.

During the summer, Asra and Nadia can spend whole nights on the veranda, with only the stars sharing their secrets. As it edges to winter, they take their sleepovers inside, seated by her high windows where the night sky can still watch them. He sprawls near her houseplants on pillows arranged for his visits. Eventually, she stops pointing out the palace has furniture, and leaves her chaise lounge to join him on the floor.

In the middle of winter, he checks his bag nervously before announcing himself. He's barely seen her that month, given how busy she is with projects to end poverty, clean the water, and codify her new trial system. While he pours wine, she vents about roadblocks, framing all of them as failures in leadership even when other culprits are involved. His attempts to point out her successes only lead to her finding areas to improve.    

After they've drained their first glasses, he shuffles behind her to gather her hair. "How many do you want, Nadi?"

"I don't quite care. It's not as if anyone else will see—two, please, to pin up." He begins with half of her hair, working carefully not to tug. They're in no rush, like she must be in the morning, getting ready to present herself to the palace.

She takes his cue to shift focus from politics. She already works so hard, not that she'd give herself credit if he said so. Knowing how circular such conversations get, he instead asks for the latest palace gossip. If there's an advantage to being inside, it's that with the proper spell on the door, they can be sure they aren't overheard. Fondly, he thinks of the birthday where Ilya joined them, and they all ended up in the fountain. Those memories don't have to come with such a pang anymore.

After passing on rumors about Valerius's affairs, ghosts in the gardens, and a war story featuring two of the guards, Nadia inspects the braid Asra has finished. As always, she approves. "I think it only fair that you gossip during the next braid," she says.

"Aw, but I'm the one braiding."

"If I have to think about the goings-on of this palace another instant, I'll need more wine, and if I move I may disrupt your work."

In the mirror, her eyes close while he begins the second braid. As he weaves her thick hair in the familiar pattern, he also weaves reports of woodland creatures sighted for the first time in years: antlered bears and oversized rabbits and birds with songs like symphonies. Whether it's finally safe for them to roam, or they're just drawn to visit Carrow, Muriel isn’t sure.

"How remarkable. Do you think they would like to meet me? I would hate to impose, after they've finally emerged," Nadia says.

"If they'd come out for anyone else, it'd be you. Muriel likes you, you know."

She smiles brightly. "That is even more wonderful news. Though I suppose I should have guessed. He did accept my invitation to tea."

"Seriously? He'll barely even come to my place for tea. That's great, though," Asra says.

"Well, I suspect Carrow was involved, but nonetheless. Ah, I was going to ask how to ensure his comfort."

"I don’t know how comfortable he'll get, but I think he'd like the gardens. And for no other people to be around."

Asra ties the braid and begins pinning them both up. As Nadia is inspecting his work, he fiddles with the secret in his bag and tries not to look nervous.

"One last touch,” he says. “Close your eyes again." When she does, he slips a string of pearls around her neck.

"Asra, what is—oh, my!"

He scoots backward to lounge on a pillow, his robe shifting as he rests his now-idle hands behind his head. "You don't have to keep it on, if you don't like it, but you know. Completes the look, doesn't it?"

"It's beautiful. Wherever did you find it?"

_Finding it_ wasn't the issue. First came diving for pearls, starting in his secret spots along the beach, as well as a place out of town when the tides foiled his plans. Then came finding the right metal for the chain. He tried to make it resemble gold with tricks his dad taught him, but even his dad never mastered the real thing, and Nadia would know the difference. Instead, he focused on finding something capable of holding a spell. And then the spell itself: a charm to soothe the wearer. With her intuition, she must sense it.

_A magician makes miracles look effortless_. One of the first lessons his fox-headed mentor passed along.

With a smile that imitates theirs, he says, "Wouldn't you like to know." Compared to the things his dad can craft, it's hardly a _miracle_ anyway.

"I would. I'd quite like to commission the seller," Nadia says.

"If you put in a request, I might pass it along."

"Nonsense. You've already done enough."

"It's the least I can do, after all you're doing for the city."

"Oh, posh. The least anyone can do is nothing." She adjusts the necklace, looking flushed but pleased at her reflection. "Thank you, Asra."

"Of course." He refills their wine glasses. She tips hers this way and that, seeming contemplative.

"For the first time since I was young, I have access to my personal gate,” Nadia says. “I thought you might want to know. Or, I suppose, I didn't know who else to tell." 

"That's great news." Even if he's curious, he knows better than to ask what it looks like. He imagines a purple and emerald landscape, waterfalls tipping gently into froth, and air currents that can carry her anywhere, even across the sea.

"I can't, however, seem to skip into the High Priestess's realm at any old time,” she continues. “She only speaks to me in dreams these days."

"I can take you to visit her, if you want."

Nadia seems to consider that. "I'm sure she has better things to do."

"If she's anything like the Magician, then probably not."

"I'm quite sure she isn't." She sips her wine, and his lips twitch with amusement. He can't argue the point.

"Still, the offer’s open,” he says. “Our lives are like flies compared to theirs. She might be happier than you think to see you while she has the chance."

The thought seems to trouble Nadia, but she only says, "I'll consider it." He doesn't push further. She nurses her glass until it's empty before staring into it. "She did always welcome me graciously. Even when I was a child with little decorum."

It's news to Asra that Nadia met her so young, though it's not surprising. "Your instincts would have been more interesting to her, anyway."

"Indeed. Even mature humans put on little more than a show for most of the Arcana, I assume. Still, I like to think we bonded. She always let me explore at my own pace. If she had other visitors to compare me to, she never mentioned as much."

"I'm glad she was there for you."

"As you have been. As much as I enjoyed having something all to myself, it is nice to have someone I can discuss her with."

The sentiment strikes a chord. The less safe his world became, the more he was driven to explore others; the more his mind filled with shapeshifters and rainbow beeches, the harder it became to connect with anyone. "I understand."

It's not the only thing he understands. He knows why she brushes aside compliments and finds fault with her achievements. He can fill a bucket, but his mother can summon the rains. He can glamor himself, but the Magician can become anyone, even Asra—or rather, a version of him that can do anything.

Stroking her pearls, Nadia studies her reflection approvingly, and he brushes off his thoughts. He's past the point of wanting that much power. A gift to soothe a hardworking friend is enough.

"More wine?" he asks. "You still owe me a game of truth or dare."

They laugh long into the night.


End file.
